


Averting a collapse in slow motion

by Arnica



Series: Jericho tumbles [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnica/pseuds/Arnica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Jack slumps on the stairs. "You know I'm not going to shoot him as soon as you close your eyes, right?"<br/>"I do." Kind of.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Averting a collapse in slow motion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt Owen/Ianto, 'Owen is too much of a doctor not to help him' Hints of past Owen/Ianto

He considers leaving the little bastard on the floor in the pool of blood for exactly five seconds before he moves across the concrete floor and hunkers down on his heels, next to the cooling bodies that Ianto has yet to remove his hands from.

 

“Tea boy? Ianto?” He doesn't move, doesn't even blink, and Owen is wishing he had his pen light with him, but a lighter will do for the moment. He flicks the bic millimeters from the man’s face, and he never moves, pupils dilating slowly.

 

“Right. Ladies and gentlemen, Ianto Jones has left the building. Tosh, be a luv and help me get him up the stairs to Autopsy. Gwen, pet, tell Jack that if he plans on shooting Jones here that he has exactly until the moment I've got the boy seated on my table to do it, because the moment he parks his arse, he's my patient and is not to be shot, retconned, or fucked with in any way until _I_ say.”

 

“Oh, that will be the fun frosting on the shit cake that has been this day, thanks Owen,” Gwen snapped. “Just promise that if Jack comes storming up behind you before you make it there you'll hit the ground, huh?” Under his hands Ianto starts to shake, even as he continues to stare blankly forward.

 

“Little less of this right now, please. Come on ladies, help me get him on his feet.”

 

***

 

By the time they make it to the autopsy bay, Ianto is making an effort to stagger between them, and it's more of a hindrance than just manhandling him was. Every step managed was out of sync with Owen and Tosh, throwing them slightly off balance, and Ianto has yet to actually focus his eyes on anything or take a breath that isn't a shallow pant.

 

“Wanna play nurse, Tosh?” Owen says. She rolls her eyes, even as she scrapes her hair back from her face and helps him manhandle the suited form up on the table. “Sit up there next to him. It's entirely possible that he may pitch face first off the gurney as soon as I move.”

 

It's Tosh's smothered gasp as he's gathering everything he thinks he needs that lets him know Jack is in the room.

 

“Go fuck yourself, Jack. You're only the boss until his arse hits my table, at which point regs say he cannot be interviewed, executed, or touched without my clearance. And seeing as how the tea boy can't quite remember how to blink, you're not getting in.” The captain is leaning against the far wall, fidgeting with his wrist strap. “The good news is he may have done your job for you. The longer it takes me to get him to respond to outside stimulus, the more likely he’s not coming back.” Jacks face is white when he sees it out the corner of his eye.

 

“What are you talking about, Owen?”

 

“See this?” Before Jack can move, Owen has spun in place and slapped Ianto as hard as he can. Jack and Tosh cry out and Ianto never so much as flinches. "That right there is what we call catatonia. Could be temporary as a result of the shit storm that has been tonight, or could be a symptom of an underlying mental break that's been happening in slow motion since Canary Wharf. All I know right now, Jack, is that you are demanding my time when I have a patient who needs me. Now piss off, if you please, unless you've been hiding a serious injury.”

 

“No. No, I'm fine...”

 

“Then goodbye, Jack.”

 

***

 

“Why are you doing this?” Jack asks. He's been awake thirty-seven hours now, Gwen and Tosh have long gone home, and Ianto is sleeping deeply with the help of as big a dose of thorazine as Owen could give him. He looks around at Jack, who has been hovering over his shoulder since the girls left.

 

“Because I’m a doctor. Because it’s my job, because if hiding Katie in a basement would have bought us another six months, I would have had her down there before you could get your pants back up. Take your pick.”

 

“Okay.” Jack slumps on the stairs. “You know I'm not going to shoot him as soon as you close your eyes, right?”

 

“I know.” Kind of. “But if Ianto wakes up, he won’t know that. It would help if I knew if there’s a family history of these kind of breaks with reality.” He's talking to himself more than anything. “If you’re going to lurk around, be useful and grab the chair that doesn't suck for sleeping in.”

 

***

 

He wakes up to the sounds of David Bowie’s “Rock and Roll Suicide” softly playing. Tosh is standing next to the bed with a bowl of warm water, carefully removing any traces of blood they missed in their quick clean up of Ianto last night when they stripped off the singed bloody suit.

 

“Didn't mean to wake you, Owen,” Tosh says, her voice softer than normal. “I just thought, well, he really likes this song, and aren't you supposed to use familiar things to bring people around?”

 

“I've heard worse ideas.”

 

“It was Jack’s idea.” She shrugs. “He went to Ianto's flat and picked up his iPod and some books. Guess we're not executing him, then.” Her hands tremble as she works a nail brush gently across limp hands. “Is it stupid I'm glad?” she continues. “Even with everything that almost happened, I'm not sure I could have lost him too. I mean, I still miss Suzie so badly some days, and he's so young...he’s not even twenty-four yet.”

 

Owen is still too tired for this. “Since you're here, keep an eye on him and wake me if he starts coming around. I'm gonna go crash on the couch.”

 

***

 

Tosh doesn't need to wake him. The howl of fear and rage and loss that rips up from the autopsy bay does it for her. Owen’s halfway down the stairs before his eyes are open, shoving past the useless cluster of coworkers gathered at the base. The howling man has slid off the bed, and started aggressively throwing anything he can reach at the walls.

 

“Tea boy, you touch one more of my fucking things and I will boot your arse up onto your goddamned shoulders!” His roar echoes off the tiled walls and Ianto freezes, blinking twice before looking slowly down at the glass vial in his hand and bursting into tears.

 

“Right, you awake now?” Owen snaps.

 

“Oh, God!”

 

“That's a yes. Everybody out! You too, Jack!” He doesn't bother telling them to stay away from the CCTV. The girls won't try and Jack won't listen to him.

 

“Right,” he says. “Jones, back on the table, because we are going to have a very long talk about things you need to tell your doctor.” Ianto’s movements are sluggish but coordinated as he climbs cautiously back onto the gurney.

 

Owen listens carefully to lungs and heartbeats, drawing blood and running tests for over an hour, and the entire time Ianto speaks in slow measured tones of the smell of hot metal and cauterized flesh, the sound of rubble coming down around you and how screams echo differently in a partially demolished building. He talks about over-ordering Owen’s stock and diverting it, and the neighbor in the flat on the third floor who provided the heroin and ketamine when morphine wasn't enough for her. How he hasn't slept more than an hour or two at a stretch since it all happened, and finally in careful, measured words, how he’s willing to write the report himself beforehand, but that he’d prefer it if Jack came in to execute him before the numbness goes away.

 

“Not happening, Jones,” Owen says, counting out pills into bottles. “As chief medical officer, let me tell you what’s going to happen. These are tranqs, antidepressants, and antibiotics. Just two days’ worth, not enough to kill you even if you take all of them as soon as you get home. Jack and Gwen are clearing out anything dangerous from your flat as we speak. You are on thirty-day medical suspension, effective now. I'll be dropping by unannounced at any point I want to make sure you’re choking down these pills and not doing something stupid like putting your head in the oven.” It's only because he's looking for it that he sees despair and cunning chase each other across Ianto's eyes before he opens his mouth.

 

“You know that blowjob you got a couple weeks back was only because you were wandering too close to Lisa's room, right?” he says.

 

“I did come to that conclusion, actually.” Owen’s mouth is tight when he slams the bottle into Ianto’s hand a bit harder than necessary. “And if you think a little barb like that is going to make me change my mind about if you live or die, you're even further off your game than I thought. Piss off, tea boy. Someone is waiting upstairs to take you home.”

 

And because he’s a bastard, it’s Jack he calls over the coms.


End file.
